


Revenge Is A Dish Best Served Cold

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-23 17:23:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14938629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: It was something out of Lieutenant Craig Garrison's worst nightmares, except this time it was all too real.  One by one the men on his team are vanishing into thin air.  Can he and the few people he can really trust discover how and why and who, in time to prevent them being lost forever?  It's a race against time now, time and an unknown enemy, and the clock and the odds are not in their favor!





	1. One Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Actor gets co-opted to work with Ainsley's team, something goes dreadfully wrong. Garrison and the guys come back from a mission in Yugoslavia only to receive the news that Actor is dead, lost along with one other man on that mission gone wrong. Now, they battle fatigue, shock and grief, knowing they have no choice but to carry on.

"Yes, and I know you do not like to 'loan' your men to another group, but in this case it is necessary, Lieutenant! I wouldn't be here if it were not. For security reasons, of course, I can give you no real details, but sufficeth to say, the man who was to run the con for Ainsley's group experienced a last minute injury, just before the briefing was scheduled, and we have to replace him with someone quite good; your Actor would be that man," Major Richards explained, though he obviously wasn't thrilled at being obliged to explain. Still, with Garrison, it was best to accommodate his protective instincts as best as possible, he'd learned.

"Then let us do the mission, Major; I don't like one of my men being out there with strangers. We're a team, we know each other, we know how to work with each other," Garrison urged.

"Quite out of the question, the others have been briefed now, they have specialists needed for this that none of your men would be qualified for. They need only a top-knotch con artist, and we are loaning them your man. That is quite final, Lieutenant."

Then, in a softer tone, "it shouldn't be a long mission, you should have him back quite soon, I would imagine."

Richards refrained from mentioning that he didn't have to go through this rigamarole with any of the other team leaders; a simple phone call of 'have so and so report to this location at this time' was usually quite sufficient - but not with Lieutenant Craig Garrison. Sometimes Richards wondered why he put up with it. Then, he thought back to their shared history, so much history, so many connections, and he knew quite well why.

Garrison didn't like telling Actor he'd been co-opted, nor the others. Actor was thin-lipped with annoyance, but acceded to the order; the others were much more vocal in their disapproval, and Garrison was not happy with himself when he had to get harsh toned to get them to settle down. It wouldn't do to admit to them that he was just as upset as they were, and he was getting tired of giving them the company line of, "it's orders, and that's that!" Frankly, he was getting more than a little tired of getting that line from his superiors as well.

Two days after Actor had been driven away in the RAF jeep, the team left on a mission to Yugoslavia; Garrison fumed at the assignment, fumed at leaving with less than a full team, but was told they should be able to handle it, nothing in Actor's line was expected to be needed. Garrison barely controlled himself, and was almost to the shouting point, trying to explain that you couldn't tell in advance just what talents, what skills would be needed on a mission; that so much of it was spur of the moment; that that's why you had a team with a variety of skills in the first place! But these were desk jockeys, most of them, and they looked at him blankly, not understanding that, not understanding that a plan was only good until you started the mission, then it could all go haywire.

It hadn't gone badly, six days total before they were back in London, tired, but no significant injuries aside from a few bruises and a bullet graze to the arm and shoulder suffered by Goniff, their little pickpocket, and a thump on the head for Casino that didn't seem bad enough for a concussion, but they'd get it checked out, of course. For a wonder, the Lieutenant had come through unscathed, and Chief as well. They were not happy, though, to find Actor still gone, and no one available for their debriefing, though usually they were hounded for it immediately.

It was late evening when they were deposited at HQ by the jeep, only to find the officer in charge of their debriefing had been called away for a last minute strategy meeting. They weren't allowed to leave, either, not even to seek out cots or food, and the guards were disinterested in fetching anyone to tend to their injuries, citing them as bumps and scratches. They spent the night at HQ, on hard wooden chairs, or in Goniff's case, curled up in a corner (ordered there by Garrison after he tumbled out of the chair twice in mid-sleep, waking the others), waiting for the arrival of the brass, but it wasn't til mid-morning that Major Richards arrived to speak with Garrison. Garrison wasn't happy about that, or about the fact that he'd been unable to get any medical treatment for his men during the night. Hell, he hadn't even been able to get them coffee or anything to eat!

Garrison and the guys should have know something was wrong; Richards wasn't the usual one to do the debriefing, that wasn't his territory, but there he was, followed by a private with a tray of coffee cups.

"Major, just what is going on?" Garrison started, coming out of his chair in a bound. "My men need medical attention, we need food, we need to get debriefed so we can get back and try to get ourselves together again."

"Yes, well, you'll each be debriefed separately, and then your men will be seen to by the medical staff, of course. However, there's something I thought you should know, something you'd want to know . . . " and he paused, uncomfortable, deep frown on his face, before he resolutely raised his face to look at Garrison, his men now standing behind him, a look of growing anxiety on Goniff's face, scowl on Casino's. Chief, as usual, was playing impassive, though he was worried; it wasn't like Richards to be so ill at ease.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you, Lieutenant, but Ainsley's mission did not go well; he lost two men, and, well, one of them was your man, Actor. I'm sorry, I wish I could have brought better news," he said softly.

Voices erupted, questions, accusations, demands for more information, but very little was forthcoming. The mission was still coded 'need to know' and apparently losing a team member didn't give them a right to know. They were all shocked, stunned; Actor was one of their own, family, a brother, and this blow was a hard one.

They were taken away, one by one, for debriefing. They answered the questions they were asked, telling the truth, but remotely, automatically, not really caring what anyone thought about how they phrased anything. Their thoughts were elsewhere. Actor had frequently annoyed each of them with his high-handed manner, but each of them knew it was just part of the con, so they were never seriously angry, they just played the part he expected them to play, all part of the games they played with each other. He was still one of them, a team mate, a brother.

For Garrison, Actor was his second-in-command, the one he could talk things through with, the one he counted on to take control if he went down. Actor knew things about him perhaps no one else did, and he'd proven a staunch friend. He found his mind going to the letter he would have to write, before he remembered that while Actor knew more people than one could imagine, as far as Garrison knew, there was no one listed as 'Emergency Contact' or 'Next of Kin' in his records. Somehow that seemed even more wrong now, that there'd be no one waiting to hear.

He would have to find a way to tell his sister, Lynn; he suspected she cared for the tall Italian more than she liked to let on. Meghada would be upset as well; she'd adopted each of them; Goniff considered them brothers, so she did too.


	2. Two Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> According to the clowns at HQ, Casino had just done a bunk, taken off when a good opportunity presented itself. Garrison, Chief and Goniff weren't buying it, not for one minute! The trail isn't easy to follow, but they are motivated, and they don't intend to let anyone get in their way.

Garrison completed his debriefing, and waited for the rest of his team, waiting to go back to the Mansion, waiting to somehow pull things together again. Chief appeared first.

"Any other word, Warden?" he asked in a low voice, only to receive a headshake from Garrison. They sat, they waited.

Finally, Goniff appeared, tired, looking far older than he had when this mission had started, faint purple circles showing under his eyes, raised area under his tunic showing where he'd been bandaged. "No sign of Casino yet?" he asked, looking around with a frown for his best friend.

"No, not yet, but they might have needed to run a few tests, checking out that concussion," Chief offered.

Goniff nodded, and then looking at the others, wandered off to snaggle coffee and sandwiches; it was a sign how upset he'd been, he hadn't even thought about food earlier, and now, only because he thought the other two needed to eat. He didn't think they'd think of it on their own, and he was probably right, but then, he was the mother hen of the group.

He spared a considering look at Garrison; {"Coo, he looks exhausted; hope Casino shows up soon, so we can get the Warden to a flat surface so he can collapse!"} It was funny, he guessed, but unless they were at the cottage, he always called him Warden, or Lieutenant, and usually thought of him in those terms also. Only at the cottage was he 'Craig', only then was he something other than their leader, their friend. He knew that was necessary, but at the beginning, he wasn't sure he'd be able to pull it off, but found it was a natural division in his mind, just who and what this man was, depending on the circumstances. 

They waited; still they waited; and finally Garrison had had enough of waiting, of no answers, of being brushed off when he tried to ask questions. With the others trailing behind him, he made his way through the building, to Richards' office, and one look at his face had Private Jeffrey Ames scurrying to open the door. Major Richards, looking as tired as Garrison felt, was sitting behind his desk, phone to his ear when they pressed their way through the door.

"Lieutenant Garrison?" He hung up the phone in mid-dial. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be back at the Mansion by now!"

"Not without Casino, and I can't find anyone who'll tell me what's taking so long. His debriefing shouldn't have taken any longer than the others, and if he needed more medical care, I should have been notified. I've, we've been waiting all day, Goniff got back two hours ago, Chief two hours before him! What the hell is going on, Richards?"

The Major frowned, "I don't know, but I'll find out. All of you sit down before you fall down. Garrison, you too!" He started making phone calls, one after the other, his frown increasing, his voice getting more crisp, more impatient, til he hung up the phone, and looked at them, totally bewildered.

"They finished his debriefing before Goniff's, actually; he was taken by an orderly to x-ray, but never arrived, and the medical unit said they hadn't even ordered x-rays yet, wouldn't have, not before they'd examined him, which they hadn't."

Garrison was on his feet, not entirely steady, demanding Richards start a search, Goniff and Chief right behind him, both echoing those demands. Well, Richards was with them as well; people couldn't just disappear from Allied Forces HQ, could they??

They refused to leave, to go back to the Mansion; Richards hadn't really expected they would; he had Private Ames arrange for them to have a room, just a bed and a couple of cots, but at least a place for them to be together, to try and get some rest. He knew better than to try to send Garrison to Officer Quarters, apart from his men, especially now.

Goniff didn't stop figeting, even in his sleep, and looked even more pale than usual when they awoke, dark circles even deeper, but neither of the other two were too spry either.

"Hey, you doing okay?" Chief asked in a low voice as they were getting dressed.

"Yeah, I'm okay, just worried about Casino is all," but Chief noticed the film of sweat on his brow, and the difficulty he had getting his tunic in place. Silently Chief tugged the back into place, getting a grateful nod in return. On their way down the hall, he pulled up close to Garrison.

"Warden, think Goniff's having real trouble with that shoulder; he's looking a little peaky." Garrison took a side glance, and had to agree, but knew it took awhile for the medicines to take effect.

"It's expected, Chief; the penicillin should kick in any time; we'll keep an eye on him, and if he's not improving by this evening, we'll have the med staff take another look."

At first light they were back in Richards' office, but with no new information waiting for them. HQ seemed to be leaning in the direction of Casino having just taken off, having enlisted some compatriot to pulling the scam with the trip to x-ray, but Garrison, Chief and Goniff weren't buying it, and frankly, neither was Richards. The men went to the mess hall to get something to eat, though no one was hungry, not even Goniff, but they needed to keep their wits about them, and going without nourishment wasn't going to do that.

Goniff slipped away to try and get a call out to Meghada, but was stopped and brought back by the scruff of his neck by a towering MP, protesting all the way. A few crisp words from Garrison sent the MP on his way, leaving the Lieutenant to soothe the Englishman's ruffled feathers.

"I know, Goniff, I'll see if I can get us a telephone; I need to talk to Lynn as well," and Richards was able to swing that, letting them use his office and his own telephone. It was not an easy conversation, on either end. The women were on their way to London now, both of them, and the men would be glad for their presence; both had skills, talents, possible contacts that could prove helpful, as well as their firm support for the guys. Though Craig was dreading facing Lynn, with her now knowing about Actor; still, he thought she'd put that aside, for the moment only, to deal with the current situation, though he knew it would be difficult for her when she finally had time to deal with the loss. 

Noon, almost but not enough time for the women to arrive, even breaking all speed limits, which they were sure to do; everyone was exhausted; Richards had finally received authority to pull the security tapes of the parts of the building the 'orderly' would have had to pass through with Casino, and they were waiting for the tapes. He'd had to resort to his most imperious in order to get the Head of Security to comply, having been told "this is most irregular, Sir! We can't have just anyone looking at these, and some of the tapes aren't ready to change yet, it would be wasteful to pull them now!"

He'd ended up snapping at the bureaucrat, "those are not your personal property! What do you think the tapes are made for, our amusement?! Find them, get them to me immediately, if you want to be at that desk in the morning!!"


	3. Three Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Goniff disappears in the company of three MP's, the plot thickens. As Meghada incredulously inquires of Major Kevin Richards, "Two men just disappear from Allied HQ? What is this, a top military establishment or a waterfront dive?" With both Meghada and Lynn now joined in the search, more details are revealed, and a possible link between the two disappearances is found. That 'link' may find himself a BROKEN link if he doesn't cough up some answers, fast!

Goniff whispered to Chief, and slipped out the door, thinking to visit the loo before the tapes arrived. He was met at the end of the hall by three MP's, who grabbed him, told him he was under arrest, and dragged him away before he could even get a shout out for the Lieutenant or Chiefy. After turning the first corner, he received a hard fist to the jaw, slamming the back of his head into the wall, then another hard blow to his stomach; he doubled over, and his vision went blurry, and then he lost consciousness.

Chief frowned; Goniff had been gone too long, the loo was right down the hall, around the corner. He got up and went over to crouch beside Garrison's chair and whispered to him. "What?! Come on, we'll go check on him!" Richards looked up at him, questioning.

"Goniff went to the john, too long ago; we need to check on him.:

Richards gave him an arch look, {"Really??"} and started to give him grief over his over protectiveness, but changed his mind considering the circumstances. Garrison had lost two men of his four man team; he could understand his being overly concerned now; he could afford to be generous and accommodate him for now. He nodded, and walking to the door, called for Private Ames to accompany them and give them any assistance. 

There was no sign of Goniff anywhere, and Private Ames started pulling in help on his own, having them ask questions. Finally, someone said they saw some MP's dragging some little blond guy in fatigues out the back entrance; they hadn't paid much attention, it happened in a building like this, MP's around all the time, doing their jobs. Jeffrey sent a message to get the current tapes of the back hallways between the Major's office and the back entrance, and used Richards' name to override the protests from the security office. They wanted to know what was going on, and realizing the news about Garrisons' men wouldn't stir them, he bulled his way past their objections, "breach in security, no time for discussion, just do what I've said and get those blasted tapes to the Major's office, now! You don't want him to come down here himself, believe me!"

They headed back to Richards at a fast pace, to find him now facing down Lynn and Meghada over the situation. The news that they seem to have now lost Goniff didn't improve matters, not by the look on Meghada's face, nor the speed with which she whirled on Richards.

"Kevin, two men just disappear from Allied HQ? What is this, a top military establishment or a waterfront dive??!"

The tapes just arrived, and they started the process of weeding through them for a glimpse of the men. It wasn't easy or quick; the Head of Security, not liking this meddling in what he considered HIS business in the first place, had seen no reason to label the tapes from the machines unless they'd already been labeled. First to weed thru the tapes til they found the one showing the chunky orderly had indeed taken Casino, in a wheelchair, in the direction of x-ray, showing them disappear into an elevator; then finding the tape that showed the inside of the elevator, fast forwarding to search for the first sighting of Casino, showing the orderly had given him a quick injection before he could fight the orderly off. Keeping the elevator stopped til it took full hold, the orderly waited, then departed on the ground level. Then finding the next tape, heading for the Ambulance entrance. There was no vocal, of course, but it was obvious that written orders were shown to the guard to get them past, then they were out and gone.

It was slow going, too slow for everyone's taste, and it would be well into the wee hours of the morning before they could locate the outside tape, which was NOT in the original batch given to them, to show them more, a now unconscious Casino loaded into the back of an ambulance, and the vehicle moving off. An order from Richards had the guard brought to the office, with his log.

"Wouldn't know, Sir. Orders looked correct and all, patient being transferred to Queen's for special treatment. Signed by Dr. Lewis, they were. No, didn't recognize the orderly, but then, don't have too much to do with them as a rule, we don't, and they change them around all the time anyway." The guard was released, but told to stay at his post, they might need him again, and NOT to leave without specific orders from Richards. A little sulky, he was due to get off duty in about an hour, but he knew Richards wasn't one to cross, so he stuck. A series of phone calls to Queens Hospital verified; no ambulance had arrived from HQ, nor had one been expected, and no one of Casino's description had been checked in. Dead end, and now it was morning again.

"What about Goniff?"

They started searching through tapes again, wishing there was one more than one player, but there wasn't, and they had to follow one trail at a time. Then Meghada asked, "you said he was hurt, Craig," not even noticing she called him by his first name, which she rarely did in public, though Richards noticed, with a spark of curiousity. "What steps did he take here in the building, who did the debriefing, who treated him, everything - let's get that inquiry in place while we're looking at the tapes," looking at Jeffrey Ames, who, after a nod from Richards, dashed out to get that information.

They found the first tape, the one that showed Goniff, headed down the hall, and just a glimpse of the three MP's as they accosted him at the corner. Finding the tape of the next hall, the swift attack; that provoked a harsh snarl and several exclamations; Garrison sent a quick glance at Meghada, thinking to caution her about that snarl, only to realize it had come from him, not her. She sent him a return look, wry understand, fierce determination mixed, and they exchanged a nod of unity. Then, a long search of a number of tapes, before seeing him being dragged between two of the men in MP uniforms and headed out another entrance, being nodded to, but not questioned by the guard on duty.

"Now why didn't the guard report that when we put out the initial inquiry?!" Garrison demanded, only to find that guard had gone off duty, and had neglected to make a mention in the log. "We'll need the outside tapes for that entrance, too," Garrison ordered, his voice starting to go raspy now from stress and exhaustion, and now much more. 

While the phone called went through to the now thoroughly disgusted and harrassed Security Office for that tape, and on the double, Jeffrey's quest was paying off and people were starting to arrive at Richards' door. First, the officer who did the debriefing with Goniff, reporting only that there was nothing unusual, and at the end he'd been escorted to the medical division for treatment. The escort was still in the building and confirmed that, saying he'd handed the wiry pickpocket off to the nurse at Station 4, and went back to the debriefing room, as he'd been ordered.

The Head Nurse was next in the door, puzzled, but with her record book in hand. "Yes, sir, he came in for treatment. Assigned to 6A, he was, and yes, I've that nurse outside, in case you wanted to see her; but I'll be present, Sir," with a stern look, "I'll not have my staff harrassed."

"Which doctor treated him?" Lynn asked, only to be told, "oh, no doctor was needed, miss; it was only a shallow wound, just cleaning and wrapping and some penicillin, that would have been all. We've few hands to tend too many bodies, right now, I'm afraid." somewhat defensively.

And Lynn took it upon herself to sooth her. "Yes, Matron, we respect the shortage of help, and that the doctors were busy with more serious cases, but this is important, so we need all the information we can get," and with a reluctant, still suspicious nod, the Head Nurse brought in the young woman in stiff uniform.

"Yes, I remember him, ever so tired he seemed, poor man, didn't even make a fuss when I got his tunic off so I could look at the wound, though I could tell it was right painful. The graze itself didn't look too deep, though I could tell there was some infection from the looks. I'm sure he was running a fever." She sighed, knowing from experience that even the slightest wounds could prove very dangerous indeed, once infection set in.

"I was set to clean it up properly, get it treated, but the Doctor had come in right behind us, said he'd take care of that, sent me back to my other duties, he did." She frowned, "Wasn't like the Doctor, not really. Usually, he wants us to get all that done, him stand back and observe, if that much, then tell us what to do, unless there's more to be done, you know. Well, you know," with a apologetic look over at the Head Nurse, "some of the doctors, they have a real high opinion of themselves, and none of us, and he's one of them. Started to ask whether he didn't want me to do that part, and got myself sent out of the room for the trouble; he doesn't take kindly to being questioned, you know."

The Head Nurse was frowing mightily now; she'd just told these people that no doctor was involved, but it seems this young nurse was saying otherwise, and she asked crisply, "which doctor, Nurse? I've none listed on the chart!" and was rewarded with, "why, Dr Lewis, m'am," in surprise. "He came in right behind the man, followed right in, he did."

"The same name as on those orders for Casino," came the soft words from Chief, and a rapid order from Richards had Private Ames and two MP's from the hallway on a run to corrall this ever so helpful, seemingly ever present, Dr. Lewis. They especially wanted to talk to him after that final tape arrived, showed the MP's tossing an unconscious Goniff unceremoniously into the back of an ambulance, by the portion of the identification numbers they could see on the tape, possibly the same one that Casino had disappeared into. By now, over twenty four hours had passed since the Englishman had been taken, more than twice that for Casino.


	4. Putting The Pieces Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Threads of a trail, bits and pieces of information, an uncooperative witness - none of that improving the disposition of those searching for their missing ones. Finally a hint, just a hint, but maybe something to go on, something that will lead them to the answers they have to find.

By late afternoon, a pinched mouth Dr Lewis was hustled into the office, complaining about being pulled out of his home, since he'd been off duty, complaining about not being allowed to start his rounds now that he was here, complaining about being manhandled by the MP's, though a questioning look from Richards confirmed that that hadn't happened. His reaction to his personnel file being handed in moments later was epic, all full of indignant proclamations of who he was, who he knew in the halls of power, the dignity owed his station, etc, etc.

The nurses were summoned to face him, which added to his displeasure; being questioned in front of subordinates just wasn't appropriate for a man of his standing in his way of thinking. He acknowledged sending Casino off to Queens, for further treatment, though he had no recollection of what the injury was that it couldn't have been treated here; no, he hadn't thought it necessary to let Garrison or Richards know, he wasn't a babysitter, nor was he a secretary, he was a doctor. No, he didn't know why Casino had not shown up at Queens, with "I believe I told you, I am not a babysitter," with a sneer.

Questions about Goniff got similarly helpful answers; in fact, he categorically denied what the young nurse had said, "do you actually believe I'd be wasting my time doing scut work? I've more important matters to attend to," to the indignant protests of both the nurse and the Matron.

The Matron looked at the doctor, considering the man in front of her, her lips tight, and then over to Richards and Garrison. "He's lying, I'd bet on it," to be interruped by his furious threats to have her, to have both of them dismissed without references; with the shortage of trained nurses, the Matron knew that was unlikely, and put her hand on the alarmed younger woman's shoulder in reassurance. "I've dealt with the doctors, the interns, the orderlys for more years than some of them have been alive, and I can tell when one is lying, and this one is. I don't know why, but he is." 

Lynn got a thoughtful look on her face, "Matron, do you keep an inventory of supplies for each room?"

"Well, of course, otherwise things would disappear right and left!"

"Can you have someone check to see what should have been used, what should be left, and the actual supplies there now? Specifically, for that treatment room, 6A I believe you said, is there the right amount left, too much, not enough?" working on a hunch. She hurried off to take care of that personally, the reputation of her ward now at stake, and promised to be right back. 

While she was gone, Richards sent out for coffee and sandwiches, noteably overlooking the doctor in that order.

Meghada sat, deep in thought til, "Kevin, I want to see the report on Actor, on the mission he was on, the debriefings, everything," and refused to be dissuaded.

"I still don't see why," he grumbled as he sent Private Ames for the files, then his eyes got bigger and he looked at her, then at Garrison, "surely you don't believe. . .?!"

"The team is down three men; we can't assume that it's not related, not all coming within this short a time frame. At least, it's not something to be ignored. Craig, you and Chief, Lynn, you too, you're not to go anywhere unaccompanied, only with someone we can trust, not til this is resolved, . . . Please," turning it into a request, with a tightly controlled grimace that was obviously intended to be a smile.

Garrison looked back, heaved a deep breath, nodding, "Agreed," to the shock of Kevin Richards, who didn't think Garrison would so easily accept orders from the woman; he knew from experience Garrison had a difficulty with orders; even when he accepted them, under protest, he usually found a way to get around them. 

Chief looked at the Doctor, hunched in the corner in a chair. "What about the Lieutenant and me, what about Lynn, Meghada? When were we to disappear? Anyone else on the list?" The Doctor just ignored him, with a contemptuous lift of his head at being addressed by this, this person! only to have Richards bark out the same question.

He quickly folded, "just the Lieutenant, though not for a day or two; not from here, I know that. That one, and either woman, not at all, no one else. For some reason, he was not to be included in the plans, and those two were never mentioned." That got a round of raised eyebrows all around. What would the guys have been involved in, Garrison included, but not Chief, not Lynn nor Meghada that could have created this situation?


	5. The Face of the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The face of the enemy shines out at Garrison from the file he holds in his hand, and he wants to vomit. How long had this man been planning his revenge? Now their 'witness', their enemy's accomplice, WILL tell them all, and quickly, for there is a rescue to put into place!

The Head Nurse knocked and hurried back in, seriously upset. "I don't know how you knew, miss, but yes, the supplies and the records don't match. There are two extra vials of penicillin, more clean needles and syringes than there should be, and we were at the end of the bottle of antiseptic; he should have had to open a new one to treat your man, but he didn't. Bandages, gauze and such, well, there's no way of telling there."

At a grim "thank you, that's all for now," from Lynn, she departed, receiving orders from Major Richards to say nothing of any of this, and to tell her young nurse the same.

"What do you want to bet, Goniff received no treatment, maybe other than a bandage? If Lewis knew he was to be taken, why bother?" She frowned, "but I'll wager there's more to it than that, and I don't like it, not with what the nurse said about the infection."

She turned to Dr. Lewis, who'd been placed in a chair in the corner, under close guard, "is that the case, Doctor?" to finally receive a grudging response. "He didn't need anything further than bandaging; it was just a graze, and there's others in greater need!"

She just sat contemplating him, with an almost detached interest. Craig, knowing his sister, eyed her warily. He was distracted by a question from Meghada.

"Can you look over his personnel file, Craig? I don't know much about who you've all come into contact with, so while I recognize some of these names, a couple of his sponsors, references, and such, I don't know them in connection to you or the guys. You might pay special attention to anything that Chief would not have been connected with, but the rest of you were." Garrison frowned, {"Yes, that's a logical idea; how is she thinking so clearly when my mind keeps freezing at the thought of what might have happened to them, what might be happening to them? When I'm thinking of the team without the stabilizing force of Actor? Without the cocky safecracker, Casino, or those nimble fingers and agile body of Goniff's."} And with a pang that reached deep within, {"When I keep thinking about how it would be not to have those blue eyes smiling up at me anymore,"} he wondered.

Yet, he knew her concern was no less than his, well, how could it be? Goniff was the world to her, there was no doubt in his mind, none at all. He looked up at her, feeling guilty at his moment of what, doubt, resentment? She looked back, startled at the intensity of the guilt in his eyes, then gave a half smile, and answered his thoughts, "Craig, I've not been on a mission, not gone through what you and Chief have gone through the past several days, I'm not exhausted and running on fumes," and he nodded, grateful for her understanding, her support, hell, grateful that she was able to think when he couldn't!

Kevin Richards shook his head again, wishing he understood the strange undercurrents he'd been feeling since this whole mess had begun, the shift in balance, {"Or, maybe I don't,"} with a considering look around the room.

While Garrison was reaching for that file, the one on the Ainsley mission arrived; she and Lynn took that one, going over it, but nothing jumped out. Actor and one other working together on one part of the mission, just not appearing at the rendezvous point, no sign of them, but the Underground reporting a shootout at the target residence. They'd waited, the Underground were to continue the search, but eventually they'd had to give it up for a bad cause. The only things left to check, if they ran out of other leads, would be the identity of the other man, and the details of the injury keeping the team's own con artist away from that particular mission, how Actor's name came up for a replacement. They could contact the Underground leaders, there were places they could check, but for right now, they'd pursue other lines of investigation, warmer trails. If it was all connected, they might get more information on Actor while following the leads to the other two men.

Garrison took the personnel file, reading it carefully, and there it was, clear as a bolt of lightning. He looked at Kevin Richards, swallowed down his sudden urge to vomit.

"Redmond, Sir David Redmond. Any connections to General Sir Peter Redmond, or to Charles Redmond?"

Richards eyes widened, "the General is Sir David's younger brother, Charles was Sir David's only son." He nodded, and rubbed his forehead in frustration, "Yes, I can see that, Sir David never accepted the evidence we had against Charles; he's become somewhat of a recluse, the General says he won't even receive him anymore, blames him for being tricked by the 'plot' 'they' set up against his son, blames him and everyone else for his death. Yes, he'd have the motive, and, with our good doctor here, the means, if he had a few bully boys to do the heavy lifting."

"And Chief wasn't on that mission; he was in the hospital with a bullet wound." (Series Episode, 'Deadly Masquerade')

With a sick look at Meghada and Lynn, who were looking mystified, "Goniff had to impersonate Charles Redmond on a mission; he looked enough like Redmond to pass easily enough, with a bit of makeup and hair dye, and some good coaching by Actor on how to act and sound upper class. Redmond was a traitor selling war secrets to the Germans. He'd been killed by British Intelligence before he could hand over fake plans HQ had arranged for him to get his dirty hands on, and it was essential the Germans get those plans and think they were for real."

Swallowing deeply, remembering, "it got complicated, Goniff got a pretty thorough working over on that mission, by the Germans AND by the Syndicate Redmond owed a ton of money to." He saw no reason to mention that Goniff was most probably Sir David's nephew or something equally close.

Doctor Lewis had grown pale at their discussion, knowing there was no way out. His shoulders slumped; he'd been counting on Sir David to bail him out of this, but it appeared that wasn't going to happen. Never a brave man, nor a particularly honorable or ethical one, he could only tell them what he could and hope they'd be merciful; looking around, doubtfully, he wasn't sure which one he might count on for mercy, though, right now, none of them seemed likely. Maybe if he made the first move . . .?

"Ah, perhaps," he started, "in exchange for leniency, perhaps I could help you find them?" and the looks sent in his direction made him shudder. {"No, think I'd just better offer to help, say I didn't understand, whatever might work; I don't think I'll get very far bargaining with them! I don't know why they care so much, but it's apparent they do. I wasn't expecting that, not from anything Sir David said!"}

"On the other hand, I didn't understand just how, well, I think, yes, I know where they are. I could direct you, if you like," he rushed to get the words out.

They waited, while he gabbled out the story of his cousin who knew someone, a doctor, who ran a Private Sanitorium, that he'd in the past had occasion to send patients there on the behest of their families, "where there was no place else, you see," earnestly, with all the innocence in the world in his eyes.

{"Amazing, even Goniff couldn't have managed that much pure 'haven't a clue' innocence,"} Meghada thought, almost absently.

"So when Sir David needed a place for his 'guests', well, I thought of it right away. I must say Sir David was most pleased, and had me make the arrangements."

"When," Garrison asked harshly, wanting to know how long this had been in motion; the Redmond case had been many months ago!

"Oh, well over a month ago, wanted everything in place in plenty of time. You see, the Director of the Sanitorium is most particular to know the details of each new guest, so that the proper arrangements might be made; he's always said it was vital that the arrangement match the guest's circumstances, you know."

Lynn asked, voice tight with strain, "and Goniff, your 'treating' him or not, as the case may be? Was that Sir David's idea or yours?"

"I was told that I was the one to be giving any treatment, I was to see to it, and to just make it for show, as little as possible. I told him it might not be possible, it was a busy place, but he got all upset and told me I was to MAKE it possible."


	6. Counter-Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Clan Gathering-In is called and a rescue team on their way to the Sanitorium of one Doctor Carlyle, a highly apprehensive Major Richards accompanying them. A little persuasion gains Doctor Caryle's cooperation in locating their lost ones, protesting all the way, but the men's condition has the group biting back their fury. Patrick, James and Michael, ably assisted by Lynn, are all fervently at work helping as best they can, while Garrison is occupied with trying to keep Meghada from tearing the good doctor to pieces. HE actually more had strangling in mind.

Rapid phone calls were made; over the Major's protests, no other military or special services would be going along, just Clan operatives pulled in by an emergency Gathering In Call. He argued that he could get the military ready within the hour; she smiled at him grimly, "and you don't think I've Family, Friends, close enough to do the same, Kevin?" shaking her head at him with a quiet laugh that was anything but funny.

"Your presence, perhaps, if you desire, but I warn you, there'll be no interference, at any level, Kevin; we are fond of you, but make no mistake, you need to understand just what I'm capable of right now," with Craig breaking in harshly, "of what WE are capable of," with Chief and Lynn, nodding in total agreement. Kevin lost all color in his face as he looked at them, at their eyes, all of them, and decided he really did think he understood that, maybe not all of the 'why', but certainly the depth of emotion, of committment in that room.

Twelve armed operatives, male and female, were in the closed vans that had pulled up in the alley several streets over, where Major Richards and the others had driven in the women's car. Dr. Lewis was with them, with the idea he might be needed to make their way into the Sanitorium with a minimum of force.

"Four vans? Three doctors?" Richards asked, not really expecting an answer, more a way to break the silence.

"Enough for us, the teams, enough to bring the men out, if they need to be on stretchers," and Richards eyes showed his shock.

"You really expect it to be that bad," only to be met with a impatient retort.

"We plan for the worst, Kevin, isn't that better than trying to scramble to provide otherwise? If it's not needed, there's just some extra space in the vans, an extra bit of training for us, hardly a problem." from Patrick, one of the three Clan doctors aboard, Meghada's middle brother, the others being James, Patrick's partner in all things, and Michael, the oldest brother.

"All set?" Meghada asked Cally, the team leader, her cousin; "yes, all contingencies," came the swift answer, receiving a abrupt nod, and an unspoken 'thank You' in reply.

The trip, two hours and a bit, though traveled at considerable speed, was mostly silent, each caught in their own thoughts, some in planning; some in remembering other trips like these, some ending well, some not; of missions in the field; some thinking of evenings in the Common Room or at The Doves; warm nights at the Cottage. The faces of those not with them were at times more clear than the faces actually accompanying them, and more than once a comforting hand reached out to touch, to promise support - Craig, Chief, Lynn, Meghada - each wanting the journey to be at an end, wanting to know, to help. 

Journey's end, a narrow road leading to an old structure, perhaps once a residence, stone, seemingly more than a little neglected. They divided their forces, Lewis being in the group of three, Lewis, Richards (uncomfortable, in civilian clothes) and Cally, to appear at the front entrance, others close enough to cover them in case of trouble, still more at points surrounding the building. They had no trouble getting in, much to Garrison's surprise, and once they were in, quickly followed by Garrison, Meghada and Chief, accompanied by Patrick and Lynn and James.

Carlyle, the owner of the Sanitorium received them in smiling equanimity, despite the late hour, bouncing rhythmically on his toes, and Garrison was before long in no doubt that the man was, if not insane by medical standards, then certainly by his, a real piece of work. Seems he was quite proud of his Sanitorium, its history, of his role in keeping the 'undesirables of this society' out of the way of 'their betters'. He proudly told them of relatives who seemed bound and determined to disgrace their family's name, brought here to spend their days so they could do no harm. He mentioned wealthy but domineering and selfish wives, or syphallitic husbands, kept here in silence so that life could carry on more easily for their spouses. Fathers who seemed bound and determined to frustrate the financial needs of their impatient heirs.

He was most proud that Sir Redmond had entrusted this particular project to him, to keep these 'guests' where they'd have no further opportunity to cause harm to one of the best families in England. They had to play it slow, drawing him out, though impatience was eating at them. If they pushed too hard and he balked, it could take forever to search this hulk of a building.

When questioned specifically about Sir Redmond's 'guests', he pulled out his files. "While I can tell you nothing confidential, of course, I can tell you I am most pleased with how well their accommodations, their treatment suits them, based on the information I received," with a superior smile.

A question from Meghada confirmed that, indeed, there were three guests, one dating from almost a week ago; Lynn closed her eyes tightly, struggling to keep back tears of relief. When directed to take them to the men, he balked, stating he'd assured Dr. Lewis and Sir Redmond that they'd not been seen by any outsiders, but urging by Dr Lewis, and some pressure, actual, literal pressure to some rather painful nerve points, caused him to yelp and quickly agree that perhaps it would be permissable after all. He took up a set of keys from his desk and led the way down the hall and up a wide flight of stairs. 

He approached a door. "This one is obviously of the upper classes, and so, has quarters in this wing. We do believe in appropriate treatment, as I mentioned," and unlocked a heavy carved wooden door. Inside, pale and wan, sitting listlessly in a chair looking like it dated from the medieval days, was the tall Italian. Lynn rushed to him, with Patrick right behind. He was in a daze, hardly seemed to hear them.

Patrick snapped, "what's wrong with him," to be told, calmly, "well, nothing, of course. He's being given certain medications to keep him calm, so that we can allow him the freedom of this room; otherwise, he'd have to be restrained, and I do so hate to have to do that to one of his obvious quality."

Patrick demanded the specifics, and with pursed lips, and a deep, put-upon sigh, the so-called doctor handed over the file. Patrick skimmed it, and heaved a sigh. "Alright, nothing we shouldn't be able to handle," and Cally alerted the team by radio to do a recovery. Lynn wanted to go with him, that was obvious, but she didn't, couldn't, not til the others were found. Garrison clasped a hand on the gaunt shoulder, hoping that would somehow tell his friend what he wanted to say. Chief uttered a quiet, "Good to see you, man!"

Once that part of the unit arrived, they turned to the doctor.

"Now, the others!" only to receive a frown, "they are really quite a distance, all the way in the other wing. Is this really necessary?"

A quick movement from Garrison, convinced him that, yes, it was really necessary, and with an irritated air, led them back down the stairs, across the big entry and to a far wing. There, at the end of a hall, another door, this one heavy, but not nearly as ornate was seen, locked with a large padlock.

"This one, my information said was a street thug, a fighter, so I thought these would be the best quarters," swinging open the door to a bare, cold room, to reveal Casino, seated on the floor, battered and latched to the wall with shackles and chains. He was conscious, but his glazed and bewildered eyes pointed to more drugs, which the doctor confirmed, "well, the staff had to come in to deliver and feed him his rations, you know, and we couldn't count on his kind to be a gentleman about it, could we," with an obscene little titter. The metal cup and saucer on the floor didn't give them any notion that the rations had been adequate, but the doctor assured them they were more than sufficient, and anyway, that's how the drugs were delivered.

Another team was called in, to free him from the shackles, to get him back to the van, back to Michael who were waiting. James would wait with him and then follow after the others. Again, a brief touch from Garrison, a hushed greeting from Chief, "Hey, Pappy", a murmur from the women before he was taken away.

"And the last," Garrison demanded, his voice taut.

"Oh, but you can't seriously intend to take HIM?! Sir Redmond will be most upset at losing him!" the doctor asked incredulously, only to receive another quick reminder that they were very serious.

Meghada was more than a little afraid to get anywhere near this man, not til they had accomplished their goals, she wanted him dead, he needed to be dead, but it would have to wait. They followed as they were led down another hall, dark and dank where moisture dripped down the walls and the stains and smell of mold and much worse were everywhere; where there were no doors, only small arched grills set more than halfway down the walls. Craig was not the only one having trouble breathing, both from anxiety, and from the thick dampness, the sheer foulness of the air. The deep gloom of the hallway, lighted during the day only by the small barred windows high in one wall, now at night only by the flashes they brought with them and one dim overhead bulb, didn't help any.

"This one Sir Redmond assured me is no more than a sewer rat, and the one directly responsible for his own grievious loss, and this seemed most appropriate. There, that rathole," pointing at a tight grill with a heavy bar latch, the locks set well out of reach from any inquiring fingers from the inside. Richards reacted, the first time since they'd been inside, gagging; he was already sickened, angry, but this . . .! 

The grill was unlocked with a key from the ring, and Garrison started to go down on his knees to pull it open, but Patrick moved him to the side. At the angry protest, a firm hand to his arm held him back.

"No, I need to go first, please, trust me," and with a nod from Meghada and Cally, Garrison reluctantly pulled back. Patrick opened the grill and crouched to ease himself inside; there was no other way for any other means of entry, the opening being less than waist high.

"Get James in here, fast, call for a full med kit, spare clothing for him, stretcher, a team for transporting. And I need a place to work, a clean place, with water! And a change of clothing for me too, and James, and yes, and Lynn as well. Hurry, people!" came a quick, strangled voice.

Patrick moved in a crablike fashion out the grill opening, trying to gently move a limp body with him. James had come at a run in answer to the loud call, and he and Cally forced the others back; there was no room, no time for anything but getting him clear of that hellhole.

A quick decision by the doctor to 'offer' his own quarters, spurred on by showing of that lethal weapon wielded by Chief, hasty transporting of the limp Englishman, carried by Patrick, the biggest and strongest of lot, not waiting for the stretcher, to the tidy, in fact, rather luxurious quarters. James grabbed a blanket and tossed it to the floor, where Patrick gently laid the unconscious Goniff; James took over, while Patrick heaved his guts out in the porcelain bowl in the doctor's bathroom.

"Sorry," he said weakly, as he came back out, "I delayed that as much as I could, but that oubliette, I just couldn't . . ."

James quickly shoo'd the others to the side of the room, sending some of the team into the hall, but not forcing the issue with those who choose to stay.

"Will he have drugs in his system too?" Patrick asked the doctor, his voice raspy from what he'd just cast up.

A surprised answer, "well, of course not; there was no need. The drugs were to keep the other two from trying to overpower the attendants when they brought food and water, when they tidied the Italian's room. That one, my staff would have no reason to even venture down that hallway for quite some time; the grill wasn't intended to be opened again, you see, not till it needed to be swept out for future use."

He almost died as he finished that sentence, crying out in panic as the blond Lieutenant and the redheaded woman reached him together; they had to be dragged away, Richards yelling all the time, Patrick yelling too, reminding them this wasn't the time or place. Finally they got through to the pair, and Garrison pulled the woman into his arms, "they're right, later, 'Gaida, later" and she leaned into his shoulder, rocking back and forth in her anguish, wanting to cry as he called her by the pet name only Goniff used. The doctor huddled on the floor, his face dripping blood from her nails, throat aching from the hands closed around it, whimpering in his bewilderment at their violent, their unreasonable attack. 

They turned back to the bedside, together, him holding her tightly in front of him, his arms folded around her, watching, as Patrick and James worked feverishly, stripping the befouled clothing, slick with slime and filth from that dungeon and from the foul drainage from his infected wound, Lynn joining them to help, getting him clean again, as much as they could, moving him to a clean blanket, getting him into fresh clothing, except for the tunic.

They paused, not because they wanted to, but needing to strip off their own by-now filthy clothing, adding them to the stack of Goniff's clothes, atop the filthy blanket, to quickly wash and change into fresh, not wanting to add to the infection they could too clearly see. They lifted him off the blanket onto the bed, easing him down gently.

They were working on his shoulder and arm now, "a full raging infection, of course, couldn't have expected anything else; he wasn't the first inhabitant of that hell hole, by any means, and no, they hadn't 'swept out' the last one, either," Patrick said, trying not to gag at the thought, and the others had to fight not to do so as well.

Craig could see the deep red of what should have been a relatively insignificant injury, yellowish ooze filling and dripping from the graze, streaks going down the arm, spreading across the chest and down his side. He licked his lips, and whispered, "Patrick, will he lose the arm?" only to sway at the answer.

"Craig, it's not just the arm, we'd have to take much more, and he'd never survive the shock, probably not want to even. No, we have to fight the infection as it is, debride the wound, certainly, antibiotics, and anything else we can come up with, that's the only chance." 

They were all shocked when, at the end of the process, when they were finished applying bandages and readying him for transporting back to the vans, the thin blond cracked his eyes open, and a terribly weak raspy whisper, "Craig? 'Gaida?" and the two were at his side immediately.

"We're here, love," she whispered, smoothing back his filthy hair without flinching.

"Right here, love, I promise," from Garrison, taking one curled hand tightly in his and bringing it to rest against his own cheek, stroking his cheek against those clawlike fingers, bringing a raised eyebrow from Lynn, her being surprised only at the open admission of what she'd long known, and a sharp inhalation of understanding from Richards.

Goniff sighed, tried to smile, and then faded again. No reaction from any of the others, including Chief, who'd figured this out a long time ago, perhaps not quite so early as Actor, but not long thereafter either.

They moved quickly now, as quickly as they could, moving him to the vans with the others. Michael had been busy with Casino and Actor, and they were secured for travel. Making Goniff as comfortable as he could be, being sure he was strapped down so his shoulder wouldn't be hurt any more, Craig and Meghada braced on the floor beside him so he wouldn't panic at the restraints if he regained consciousness again, they started back for the small private hospital the Clan sponsored.

If there were any speed limits, they were unaware of them, had no concern for them. Richards had thought the trip out here had been at a quick pace; it was nothing like the ride back; he hadn't thought it possible, but they reached their destination in even less time, to be met with gurneys and full staff at the entrance, the hospital having been warned by radio of their coming. 

While waiting for the reports from the doctors, Kevin looked around with a start, "I'd forgotten, Dr. Lewis, the other doctor, Carlyle, where are they? And the staff? I need to have them in custody;they can't be allowed to get away. And what about any other's locked up out there?"

He was met with wide eyes, puzzled, from those of the team who had also forgotten about the two men. Cally, though, cousin to Meghada and the brothers, the team leader, had just a hint of a smile, not a pretty smile mind you, but a smile nevertheless.

"Don't worry, Major, you can collect them whenever you want; they aren't going anywhere."

"Yes, but where are they," he asked impatiently, and the others, Garrison, Chief, Meghada, Lynn, they all looked at her also, waiting for the answer.

"The staff are being rounded up and guarded by some of the team, at the Sanitorium. The team is also searching the building, the outbuildings, everywhere, to be sure there is no one else being confined there; we won't leave anyone abandoned! The records are being taken, to see who HAS been confined there, and their fates. As for the good doctors, I commandeered that hole Goniff was in, and the one next to it. They're quite securely tucked away; as the doctor said, those are not meant to be unlocked til they're ready to be cleaned out," and the calm look on her face frightened the Major as he could never remember being frightened in battle or on a mission. The quiet, accepting, even approving looks from those around him gave him little comfort or reassurance, and would figure in his nightmares for some time to come. Yet, somehow . . .


	7. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team tries to recover from their ordeal, but each have their own struggles with what happened. Still, together they will find their way. Together.

Major Kevin Richards was more than exasperated with his superiors, in fact he was deeply angry, which wasn't all that uncommon, not anymore. He'd placed Garrison and his team on 'stand down' to recover from recent events, and had received considerable kickback. There were even one or two who had suggested that, if the team wasn't able to perform its function, then the men should be gathered up and sent back to their respective prisons, and Garrison reassigned.

Richards shuddered to think of the response by the Clan to that suggestion; his knowledge of their depth of involvement, of caring for Garrison and his team had increased exponentially over the past few months, and specifically during this last frankly unbelievable episode. He had perhaps not been as diplomatic as he might have been, in explaining that this inability to perform their function had been a direct result of their actually having PERFORMED their function previously in the Redmond affair. He did what he could to cool things down, but, after a serious discussion with his conscience, let Meghada and Ciena know what was being said.

There was a limit to his protection, what he could accomplish; he had a feeling his head was but a hair away from the chopping block once he had outlived his usefulness to HQ anyway, but at least he could give them advance warning, so they could do what they could do. More and more, he found, in this war, his long held beliefs in what was right, what was moral, what his duty called for, who was and who was not 'worthy' of regard, it had all been called into question, not only by Garrison, or by the Clan, but now, by himself. 

He'd made a report, almost a full report, well, it included everything his superiors, the authorities needed to know. General Sir Peter Redmond had been appalled, and it was obvious, or so it seemed at least, that he'd had no knowledge, no suspicion of his brother's activities. The authorities didn't want to approach Sir David, telling Richards it was impossible a member of the peerage could be involved in so sordid a misadventure, but when he was finally questioned, Sir David Redmond had freely admitted all, angrily telling all and sundry that it was only justice; by the end of the interview he'd been incoherent, ranting, quoting the Bard in that 'revenge is a dish best served cold', purpling in the face, and suddenly, clasped his heart, his throat, and he was gone.

His brother had been present, and although grieved, seemed to cast no blame on anyone for this; just in case, both Richards and the Clan, independently, made sure to keep an eye on him, seeing as honor seemed to be in short supply in the Redmond family, not to mention possibly sanity! Richards was relieved the Clan was also keeping watch; he felt the military, well, they didn't just understand, didn't even care all that much.

The employees of the Sanitorium were held, but charges were still being determined; they were just doing their jobs, was their protest, their defense. They'd been told these were patients, inmates, and the doctor never allowed anyone to challenge his orders. Richards hoped the full descriptions of the conditions Goniff had been held in, had been intended to die in, would hold sway, but he found his belief in justice wasn't as steadfast as it had once been; the treatment Casino and Actor had received was, unfortunately, not so unusual in some of the private, indeed public sanitoriums of the time, shameful though it was. 

The two doctors had been retrieved, when Richards got around to it, and yes, he'd been scolded for neglecting to take care of that detail for several hours, though they'd been in those rat holes for less time than Goniff had been. They had been brought in to face charges as well, though he doubted the owner of the Sanitorium would ever do so; in his opinion, the doctor was mad as a hatter, though he and Garrison had a serious discussion, over a few stiff drinks, about the line between madness and evil and just where a true sociopath or a total opportunist might fall within those definitions, and Richards just wasn't sure anymore about a lot of things.

Doctor Lewis was another opportunist, one who'd violated every precept of his profession, and would face charges of negligence, aiding and abetting the kidnapping of two men, medical malfeaisance, and various other charges, though he had a smart lawyer who was arguing mightily in his defense; he would certainly lose his license to practice medicine, no matter what else happened, though Richards knew it wouldn't be that difficult for him to set up somewhere else and carry on as if nothing had happened. Somehow Richards knew the Clan would be keeping a close eye on him for now; somehow Richards also expected the good doctor would do no further harm, what with one thing or another, just as the doctor from the Sanitorium would have no opportunity to injury anyone else. He didn't even blink at the notion. Yes, his value system was changing, there was no doubt. He felt rather lost, in fact; his values, his firm, some might even say rigid, notions of what was right, what was wrong, what was acceptable or not - well, those had provided the framework for his life, and while they had been changing over a period of time, now he felt rather like a ship without a rudder, a sailor without a sextant, lost in a turbulent sea.

As almost an afterthought, Richards sat down with Actor, now that the tall Italian had recovered his strength and his mind had cleared, to discuss the Ainsley mission. He determined that the injury to the team's own con man had been arranged by the man supposedly killed along with Actor. That man had been a relative newcomer to the team, had been suborned by Redman into causing the injury, and then drugging and kidnapping Actor; his whereabouts were unknown, and it seemed he was just someone making the best of an opportunity when it was presented, though the Clan was sufficiently involved that Richards rather thought the man would be of no further risk to anyone. Ainsley and the rest of the team seemingly had no knowledge or involvement, and were appalled at what had happened. Why Actor had been chosen to replace Ansley's man had also been explored, and it came out that a supposedly casual suggestion by that rogue team member, in Ainsley's hearing, about how he'd heard Garrison's man was top knotch in the type of job they were headed for had done the trick. 

Kevin was relieved on that point anyway, he'd been half afraid of a rogue link within his own staff; he knew now that when this war was over, he'd be resigning his commission, though the military was where he'd always thought he belonged. He had no idea where he'd go, what he'd do, but this was not longer the place for him. He'd never been naive, but he'd trusted his superiors to have better intel, to know more and thus be the ones to give the orders. Well, he had stopped trusting those who gave him his orders, stopped trusting the motives behind those orders, now no longer completely trusted those he served with. The day when he trusted, knew in his heart he COULD trust the Clan and Garrison and his team before he trusted any of the others he was supposed to trust, he knew, that was the day he was ready to give it all up, just as soon as he was able. 

To have his world view so disrupted was close to overwhelming, as if a sailor were to lose sight of his lodestar, but he was an honest man, and did not shy away from examining his own shortcomings, his own failings in the harsh cold light of day. In fact, there were those among the Clan who thought he carried that a bit to the extreme, harder on himself than was reasonable, though he'd have scoffed at that notion. Ciena had told Coura and Meghada, in some exasperation, that she was thinking of presenting him with his own supply of sackcloth and ashes, complete with a scourge! The sisters were not sure whether to thump him or hug him, each of them being strongly in favor of both at various times. 

He was surprised at how much Actor knew, but it seems the doctor liked to talk, once Actor was helpless. Actor said that was the worst of it, knowing what was planned, what was happening, being told when Casino and Goniff had been delivered to the Sanitorium, what was in store for them, but being unable to do anything about it.

His drugs had been delivered in his water, his food, and when he'd realized that, had stopped eating, drinking, thinking he could regain his control enough to get away, warn the others, only to have gas piped in through a vent, rendering him unconscious and the drugs injected into him.

His feelings of guilt were unwarranted, but still deeply felt, and he was frequently found sitting beside Casino's bed, and later, Goniff's, thinking his thoughts, mourning what he considered his failure to protect his team mates, til Lynn and Garrison would draw him away.

Casino remembered only the struggle in the elevator, then nothing til he awoke in shackles. He'd been unconscious when he'd been chained to that wall, and had received drugs in the one scant meal he'd been given, injections later. He, unlike Actor, had no idea who or what was behind this, and had never been clear headed enough to even try to think it through. He still had trouble believing everything that happened, still surprised to wake to Actor, supposedly lost, sitting beside him, and later, to carefully, cautiously walking into the Common Room, to see his team mate sitting there, smoking his pipe. He'd been told what he'd needed to be told about Goniff, about his condition, his recovery, no details that would inflict on him the sick nightmares visited on the rescuers.

Goniff, they all gave thanks for, had been mostly unconscious from the time of his attack til he awoke asking for Craig and Meghada. That first blow to the jaw in the hallway at HQ had slammed his head into the wall hard enough and at just the right angle to produce a significant concussion, resulting in prolonged semi-consciousness if not unconsciousness.

He had no knowledge of that foul hole, other than the darkness and the overwhelming stench which seeped even into his unconscious state, and they told him as little as possible. The other team members, even the ones who had never met him, didn't know the team, remembered though, whether they had witnessed it, or heard about it from those inside, and many woke choking, gasping for air in the middle of the night.

Patrick, in particular, found himself unable to enter small spaces; while never before had he been particularly claustrophobic, now he was, and even an elevator held new terrors. James set about locating a new flat, their current one having a serious lack of windows; they broke their lease and were staying at a hotel in the meantime, in a room with lots of windows, nevermind the threat from the Jerries, and unwilling to jeopardize a safehouse with their regular presence.

Meghada, as well, was affected, even to the point of planning on having more windows added to the cottage, til Craig told her, in great understanding, but firm exasperation, "Meghada, the walls are going to collapse if you open them as much as you're talking about, not to mention you'll have no way to place the furniture! Why not just take down the ceiling while you're at it?!"

He understood though, and often found himself out in the open courtyard in the middle of the night, gasping for breath, gagging in reaction to his memories. She compromised, and put up an oversized covered lattice house in the garden, one with wide moveable skylights to let the sky show through and air in, taking away some of the perennial beds without regret, moving the plants to the front of the cottages, leaving a space in the new open and airy shelter for a surprisingly wide daybed, table, chairs, where she would frequently spend part of her days, even, when the weather would allow, the nights, especially the nights, when alone, at least at first, then often when she was not alone; she smiled to herself, in the early pre-dawn of one such occasion quite a while later, {"surely, it's good we've no close neighbors!"} 

Goniff spent more time in the small hospital, treatment after treatment, til he was ready to scream with the need to be gone, to be home, at the Cottage, at the Mansion, just elsewhere! Finally, Patrick and James gave the nod; the only question, was where. Meghada knew he needed to be with the team, and even more, the team needed him there, and so she made it clear, it should be the Mansion, as long as the military didn't try any nonsense. She knew she'd be welcome there, the Sergeant Major long over his trying to enforce the 'no civilians' rule, especially for her and her family, Lynn, and other close friends, and since both James and Patrick had been firm, it would be in a room of his own, to begin with, not the dorm, so she knew she could stay with him, be with him, as could Craig.

Well, actually, it had ended up being Craig's room, with cots being brought up from the Cottage for Craig and Meghada, til Goniff could tolerate their presence along side him, not that the Ministry or the Brass were ever informed of that little bit of information. She was honest with herself; the need was as much on her part as on his. Neither of them, Craig or herself, were comfortable with him out of their sight for long now, and she worried that their hovering would make him uncomfortable, and tried to hide her feelings as best she could.

It wasn't necessary, though. Instead, he seemed to understand their need, the need of his team mates, and just accepted it, though he was used to being the protector, the comforter, the mother hen, not the recipient of such attention himself; well, except from her, perhaps.

Kevin never found it needful to mention to his superiors that whispered bit of conversation he'd overheard in the Sanitoriuim, the soft words of comfort given, the endearments. He thought of them, sometimes, and for the first time, understood what his sister Julie had meant that night at The Doves, although she'd not known the all of it, no, not by far.

But, to his amazed wonder, in this time of hate, in killing, of so much violence and betrayal that he was so tired of, those soft words had touched him at his core. That such could exist gave him comfort, gave him hope, and he knew he had been blessed to hear those words, to know what they represented, that love COULD still exist in the face of such ugliness.

There were those within the Clan who would have heaved a great sigh of relief at that knowledge, that at last, perhaps, this man might at last be gathered in to themselves, might find his proper place.


End file.
